


By The Book

by snarechan



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-28
Updated: 2010-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:52:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about where Demyx lives, and how it can be a bit crazy, sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Volume 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [demishock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/demishock/gifts).



> Written for an anniversary with my longtime friend, Cassandra Cassidy, who wanted Demyx-fic. :B I'm really impressed with this story, looking back on it. I've had the idea for over a year and a half now, and finished writing it two weeks prior to Kingdom Hearts: 358/2 Days being released in the US. Knowing what I know now, there was very little that needed to be altered. GO ME.

Returning to The Castle That Never Was was the closest thing Demyx could relate to returning 'home.' Of course, it _wasn't_ home – it didn't smell, look, sound, or even _feel_ like a home – but when he went on an assignment off-site, the idea of going back wasn't so bad.

The others might claim that, what with no alternative existing, it wasn't a wonder that he didn't mind. None of them did, because no one had considered just leaving to see what options were available. But it wasn't completely awful; there was little maintenance – minor cleaning, zero need for security – and it was _theirs_ , a place exactly like them.

Then again, sometimes there were unpleasant surprises. Demyx was encountering one that very minute. He'd exited the dark corridor in the foyer of the castle and, for no apparent reason, there was a book in the middle of the floor. It was sitting innocently there, cover closed and face down (or so he assumed, since the end facing up was blank).

Calling his musical weapon, the blue sitar that had yet to fail him, and clutching it protectively to his chest, he took one purposeful step towards the item. When the novel didn't snap at him, he took another. Heel to toe, heel to toe, he slowly closed the distance until he was an inch away and towering over the volume.

Unsure what to do next, he spent a solid five minutes fidgeting, working his bottom lip and thinking on it from different angles. At last, he determined a tentative course of action: he nudged it with his boot. As soon as he made contact, Demyx jumped back and his fingers instinctively went to their proper places on the sitar strings, but the defensive position was uncalled for. The novel had budged due to his actions and not under its own willpower, and he took that as an okay sign.

Approaching it again, he squatted and let his fingers brush the outside material, using his pointer to hook under and flip it over to examine it. He was pleased to see a title on its hard, navy blue surface. In elaborate, gold-leaf font were the words _The Jungle Book,_ which on further speculation didn't really tell him much.

Opening it, he found 'Property of The Organization Library' written on the inside in delicate and precise handwriting, with the Nobody logo stamped beside it. He couldn't identify the owner of the book by that alone, presuming someone had laid claim to it, because he didn't recognize the style of script. He only knew it wasn't his, since he'd never seen it before.

Curious still, he turned to the first page of the story, the block of text that greeted him sucking him in – literally. As soon as his fingers touched the book and his eyes made contact, it issued a bright light and temporarily made him lose sight. When he could see again, he was inexplicably standing in a forest, who-knew-how-deep in wet flora and mosquitoes.

Two thoughts filtered through his consciousness then, the first about his immediate predicament, which went a little something like, ' _Alright, this is weird_.' The next, while not as demanding, was most worrisome of all, and that was, ' _The Superior is going to butcher me if I'm not back before dinner.'_

Looking around for clues, he didn't find any worth noting, and he decided to take up his sitar again and go exploring. Not like he could end up _more_ lost than he already was.

* * *

Demyx was definitely, unquestionably, absolutely, without a doubt, positively, undeniably, certainly, totally, utterly, extremely, one-hundred percent more lost than he had been to begin with.

Spreading both arms out in his path, he shoved vines and branches aside and looked suspiciously from left to right. He wanted to make sure that the path was clear of indecisive buzzards, imitating orangutans or monkeys, and marching elephants. He'd had run-ins with such creatures and he now understood why wild animals were not permitted in The Castle That Never Was.

Carefully making his way through the foliage, none of which he recognized, he progressed deeper through the jungle. Marluxia might have enjoyed the scenery and stayed to identify the local plant life, but Demyx was too uncomfortable to care. He didn't mind the rain so much as the humidity, which was high, but the insects that were overly active in these parts were persistent. He'd pulled his hood up in an attempt to protect his neck from becoming a buffet.

He really, _really_ wanted to go home. He'd tried teleporting, but not a single passage to the Corridor of Darkness would respond to his summons. His options were now: walk until he dropped in hopes of stumbling across an exit (not that he realized what an exit would look like) or wait for someone to notice he was missing, miraculously find the book he was in, assume he was stuck in it, and come retrieve him.

It was easy to figure out which choice he picked.

Pushing a large branch away, he took one step and walked face-first into a python. It flicked out its tongue, the tip of it nearly brushing his nose, and Demyx promptly screamed. The Nobody didn't even like water serpents, and that was saying something. He could appreciate them, but he didn't _like_ them.

The snake let out a yell, too, and startled backwards in such a way that it's upper half smacked into a tree. Demyx did the same, although his was intentional – he flattened his body against the trunk, hands splayed and making a good attempt to become one with it.

"My, you're a jumpy fellow," the snake hissed, voice slurred.

"More talking animals… _why_ did it have to be more talking animals…?" he whimpered.

"How rude!" the reptile baulked. " _You're_ the unusssual talker, here. I don't even know _what_ you are. You look like a man, but sssmell off."

Something poked into his shoulder, like an examining prod, and when he looked to see what it was, it turned out to be the tip of the other's tail.

"I'm, well…it's complicated."

"I'm lissstening."

"I'm a Nobody, but you can call me Number IX, I guess."

"Sssounds, mm, tasssty. Never had one of you before," the python said, the words causing Demyx to look up in alarm. He caught sight of multi-colored, swirling orbs that served as the other's own eyes, and they were focused intently on him.

"Yesss, that'sss it. Look deep into my eyesss."

Whatever the animal was trying to accomplish, the trick wasn't working. That, or it hadn't kicked in yet. In either case, he was _not_ sticking around to find out the results. Bidding his sitar into his hands, he struck a sour note, dew and muddy water conjoining to create a sloppy spout that drenched the reptile, breaking its concentration.

Then he broke into a run, reaching speeds he'd never achieved in his non-life, and nimbly leapt over fallen logs, raising his arms to protect his face as he ran right through the jungle. The sounds of a body gliding overhead could be made out over the sounds of his panting and frantic footsteps, and more than once he felt a slender, muscled form make a grab for his middle.

"I taste awful; you don't want to eat me!" he wailed. "I'm all bones and skin, barely any meat on me, and I'll give you food poisoning!"

"A risssk I'm willing to take," the voice of the snake glibly informed him.

Spotting an opening up ahead, Demyx darted for it, and consequently, headlong into Zexion. The clearing he'd expected was in fact a way back to Organization headquarters, and having been in the middle of a jump, he ended up barreling right towards Number VI. Not missing a beat, though, the shorter Nobody spread his arms wide and caught him, holding him bridal style.

"Nice catch," Demyx complimented, unable to suppress his awe.

"Hn," Zexion noted, possibly in thanks, but what he said was, "You're late for the Superior's meeting."

A blue blur trembled in Demyx's peripheral vision, and he craned his neck to see the novel that had trapped him skittering around in place, as if something was trying to escape. Zexion noticed it, too.

Pointing a wavering finger at it, Demyx yelled, "Bad literature! Get rid of it, get rid of it, _get rid of it!_ "

Unlatching his arms from around the other's neck, he scrambled to hide behind his better – no easy accomplishment, due to their slight height difference. As soon as he was positioned out of the way, the volume _slithered_ closer before bursting open, a snake made of black text and aged pages diving towards them. Its mouth was gaping open and it had the crazy eyes of the python.

Not batting an eye, Zexion raised a gloved hand – palm flat– and it stopped a breath away from his outstretched arm. Number VI tapped into his power, a glow overtaking him as he floated a couple inches off the floor, Demyx continuing to cling to his jacket, though not hard enough to pull him down. With a sweep of his hand, the paper reptile circled around them and broke apart, coming undone page-by-page, and after the other made a fist, the pages fluttered and disappeared back into the book. It snapped shut and drifted over to land in Zexion's waiting hands, at the same time as he returned to the floor.

"I'd wondered where this went off to," he murmured absentmindedly, turning the book over in his hands.

"It's _yours_ , then?"

"In a manner of speaking," he said, and then promptly smacked Demyx in the arm with it, glowering at him. "What have we explicitly told you about _touching_ strange and unusual objects?"

He winced, rubbing the spot where he'd been hit, and said, "…Uh, not to?"

"And what did you do?"

"I touched it… _but I thought it was okay!_ I kicked it first and it didn't do anything. How was I supposed to know it was going to have me for dinner? Why do you even _have_ that crazy thing?"

"Research," Zexion answered, in a tone of voice that added 'as if there would be any other reason.'

Demyx couldn't help but sulk at the response, pointing out, "That's what you higher-ups are always using as an excuse."

"Because it is fact, not fiction," Number VI said, and thankfully appeared to have calmed. Demyx admired that about the other Nobody – he could be impeccably patient with people, explaining things in great detail without getting bored. It was rare to see him frustrated, but rarer still that he held onto it. He wished he could be that cool and collected, sometimes.

"Now come, we are late enough as it is. We must hurry."

Nodding his head, he kept a pace that matched the other's. As a thought occurred to him, he hunched his shoulders and wrung his hands, nervously asking, "Do you think the Superior is going to be mad about me not showing up on time? What if I explain to him about the book?"

Zexion mulled it over, glancing at the novel in his hands, but instead of answering him right away, he asked him, "Depends. Were you able to convert Shere Khan into a Heartless?"

"…Who's Shere Khan?"

"You're busted," he confirmed.

"Come oooon, this wasn't even my fault! Can't you put in a good word for me?"

Zexion gave him a dull stare at the mere suggestion and kept walking.

"What if I wrote you a song?"

"No."

"Helped with your experiments?"

"No."

"Told you where Luxord hides all his winnings?"

"…Why do you even know that?"

"My Dancers can find anything!" he stated, proud and matter-of-fact.

"Anything?" Number VI repeated, finally ceasing in his parade to regard him seriously. He folded his arms over his chest and gave him his full attention.

"Sure can! They're not as awesome as Xigbar's Snipers, but they think a challenge is fun…until they get bored. They can be sort of flighty."

"Then maybe you and your followers _can_ help me. I intend to organize my book collection, but have had to put it off, and matters are getting out of control, as you can imagine," he said, indicating _The Jungle Book_. "If you help me do it, I'll see what I can do to excuse your undue absence."

"Absolutely!" he agreed, so excited at the prospect that he hugged the other tightly and picked him up. "How much is there, anyway?"

"I've documented over one hundred and seven literature-based artifacts of known interest. There are more in the castle's library. We start tomorrow," he informed, nonchalant.

Demyx's mouth hung open in despair and he let the shorter Nobody drop from his hold.

"But…that's… Are there at least no more like the one you have in your hand?"

"Nonsense," Zexion said, dashing the other's optimism a moment later by elaborating, "There are worse ones."

For the first time, Demyx wondered why he'd come back home at all, not sure he wanted to live in a funhouse any longer.

* * *

To Be Continued…


	2. Volume 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A story about where Demyx lives, and how it can be a bit crazy, sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How this went down was the first chapter was the actual gift, and then I wrote this as a sequel because the original idea I'd had for it included this additional section. The time allotted me only allowed me to finish the first chapter, and then I said to hell with it and wrote this after the actual anniversary. :V As for the story, I think it would have been beneficial for Demyx to watch Fantasia and learn a little something…

The library was of reasonable quality, as far as a place filled with ancient books with little to no pictures in them could be. It was one room as white as the rest of The Castle That Never Was, reminding Demyx of a hospital rather than a palace. Stark and sterile and _boring_. He'd visited this part of the castle once, back when he was new and getting the ten-munny tour, and after taking one glance at it he'd never returned.

Until now.

Zexion had made sure he kept his word, especially after he'd taken the effort to uphold his end of the bargain and talked to Saïx and Xemnas for him. Dragged, somewhat forcefully, to the library, he was then instructed to first find any missing volumes and second, to catalog them and the rest of the collection. Thankfully, it didn't _sound_ hard, but un-thankfully, the work was time-consuming and dusty. And dust was gross.

Pacing in front of an army of Dancers, Demyx idly browsed through one of the books – an original copy of _The Swiss Family Robinson_ – and snapped it closed, a small cloud of dirt billowing from the pages.

"Alright, ladies!" he announced, not really _sure_ if they had a gender but decidedly giving them one. He stopped at the center of the group and struck a solid pose, like a drill sergeant.

Holding up the story in his hand, he said, "This? Is a book. They're typically old and smelly – and you need to go and find any that _don't_ belong to an Organization member. Search the castle, the other worlds, _wherever._ Don't come back without any, okay? NOW GO FORTH AND ROCK!"

He pointed at the door, and the lesser Nobodies scattered, flitting off or disappearing to do as ordered. Left alone, Demyx grabbed a seat, twirling it around once, and flopped back into it. Habitually, he tilted it back so as to rest his booted feet on the table and his head in his hands. Number IX was just considering that this might not be so bad when the solitude was broken, Zexion making his reappearance and dropping a tower of books onto the table. His superior purposefully slid them over to knock Demyx's feet off.

"Here is the initial set," he indicated. "Record the author, title, summary, and any unusual activity in this."

Zexion handed him a set of four binders, thick with clear, plastic inserts and paper that had lines and some text printed on it. The musician's wrist screamed in such high-pitched agony at just _thinking_ about all of the notes ahead of it that Demyx was sure he was the only one who could make it out. Thus, he determined that there was no justice in the world.

"Can't I use the computer?" he whined; typing wasn't his specialty, either, but it went slightly faster.

"Not after what you did to the mainframe the last time you used it. You're fortunate that the data was able to be recovered and a more serious punishment wasn't issued."

"Window-washing and double recon isn't exactly a light punishment, ya know! Do you have any clue how many windows there are on the west side? I lost count at fifty!"

"Don't tempt the extent of creativity, lest you regret the consequences of your wishful thinking."

"… _What?_ "

"Get to work," Zexion advised.

He sighed and grabbed the top book on the stack, grumbling, "So what should I do if I get sucked into another book? Do I put it under 'U' for 'uh-oh' or what?"

Un-amused, Number VI didn't dignify that with a response and merely vanished through the darkness corridor, leaving him to deal with the task and figure it out on his own. Sulking, he grabbed a pen and began to jot down notes. The book creaked as he opened the stiff cover. Author and title – Victor Hugo, _The Hunchback of Notre-Dame_ – were written down, and he grabbed the pages to flip through them. A few pages in, his ears picked up the sounds of church bells ringing. He counted that as 'unusual activity' and recorded it.

In the middle of writing for his second selection, one of his Dancers came skirting back. It was carrying a tiny thing, at least in comparison to the others he had set before him.

"Sweet! That's my girl," he congratulated, and accepted the book. "Good work. How about you take the rest of the day off, huh? Consider it your reward."

The Dancer swayed its hips in a thankful dance, then sauntered off to parts unknown. Demyx wished he could go, too. He finished the one he'd been working on prior to the interruption, then did two more, including the new arrival. When he picked up the next one in the stack he had to quickly snatch the one under it because it had begun to float. Demyx made sure to write about that one and then sat on it to keep it from flying away.

Another Dancer showed up, then – no, _two_ did, carrying seven books between them. They must have hit up one of the nearby worlds, because the novels looked foreign, maybe from that desert planet, Agrabah. A part of him was proud to see they'd done their job so awesomely, but the other half was exasperated because it meant more work for _him._

"Put them over there, I guess…" he instructed, indicating the empty corner of the table. Before they'd finished that, _another_ one of his Nobodies showed up, three various sized books in her arms.

Then the count reached twelve, and then twenty, and on and on and _on_ ; he didn't remember ordering so many Dancers, never mind that each had to have an average of 3.5 books.

"Ah maaan, this can't end well," Demyx moaned, as more Dancers came in, one in particular balancing several novels on its head.

He was right about _that_ , at least. Though he would later wish he wasn't.

* * *

When Zexion returned to check up on Number IX's progress, Demyx could tell from the look crossing his face that his superior felt…lost, no doubt assuming he had taken the wrong passage and ended up in the wrong room.

The library was now chock full of more books than it could hold – floor to ceiling, table to chair, door to wall, with one single path left to take. Dancers were gliding along it like ants in a colony, twirling and setting fiction and nonfiction alike down to a unified rhythm. The only reason Zexion wasn't swept up in it was because when he exited the corridor, he'd stepped onto a mound of books.

"Zexion!" Demyx screamed, muffled. "Help!"

"Where are you?"

"In a fort."

The other didn't comprehend his meaning until he stumbled across Demyx entirely by accident, trapped inside a makeshift structure of paper and hard covers.

"What did you _do?_ " Number VI demanded, pushing some aside and pulling the musician free.

"My Dancers got a little hide-and-seek crazy! I can't get them to stop."

"I thought you claimed they were 'flighty'? Surely they must get bored eventually."

Demyx bent slightly in dismay as he said, "I've been waiting for _hours_ , dude! I'm not sure how much this place can hold before they start flooding the castle."

Zexion simply shook his head, perhaps a little bit in disbelief, before summoning his Lexicon. Wisely, Demyx took a purposeful, huge step back, knowing full well that whenever his superior felt the need to pull out his 'weapon' of choice, things were about to Get Handled. The Tome of Judgment popped open, seemingly of its own accord, and the pages turned at the barest touch of the other's fingers, landing on a chapter that Demyx couldn't quite make out.

As predicted, the activity was mind-blowing and fast-paced the minute Zexion got to work. The books scattering the floor suddenly levitated and then shot onto nearby shelves, impressively going in alphabetical order, and once there was enough room to move, _the shelves actually jutted out!_ Number IX had to jump aside to escape getting bowled over by one pulling out at his back, revealing more places to put books, and they were readily filled, too.

When all was said and done, the library returned to its previous state of organization, save for a couple dozen Dancers still hanging about and two Organization members taking up residence.

"You need to teach me how to do that," Demyx declared. "Seriously. I can think of a million ways I could use that. I'd never have to get up again."

"It's exactly for that reason that the skill shall remain with me," Zexion retorted. "Now explain: how did that mess happen?"

"Okay…okay, it was like this! You wanted me to find books for you, right? So I sent my Dancers out, but I wasn't very specific, and they sort of…just grabbed whatever they could find," the musician explained. "But there's a positive side to this! They brought back some cool-looking picture and coloring books. I can feel this place getting more interesting already."

Zexion _stared_ at him. Not so much the polite 'yes, I'm listening' kind of stare, nor even that 'this is me concentrating really hard on what you're saying' kind, but that blank sort of non-blinking, non-comprehending stare that signified to Demyx that he'd said something he shouldn't have.

"What?" Number IX asked, confused.

A Dancer interrupted then, one of the few that he _hoped_ was finishing their rounds, and held out a black book, hand-bound tightly with a cute caricature on it.

Zexion snatched it and pushed it up against Demyx's chest, curtly saying, "You will return here after the evening meal and personally go through the collection, remove all the useless books, and then finish cataloging."

"B-but…that could take hours! Days! Weeks! _Years!_ "

Number VI seemed to think on it, then said, "You're correct in that assessment. It would be better if you started immediately. I advise you get to it."

Maybe the other had been right earlier – washing windows didn't sound so bad anymore.

-Fin-


End file.
